


Drunk and Disorderly

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood Drinking, Celebrations, Drinking, For Science!, Hangover, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: “McCullum.” Jonathan started. "I have a proposition.""What're you proposing?"“Well, I was wondering if I could try an experiment with you?” Jonathan answered.“This isn’t going to be like that time you asked me to use jumper cables on you, is it?”----------A Vampire and a Hunter walk into a bar and make some very questionable life choices.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 143





	Drunk and Disorderly

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun little piece that started from an inside joke me and my fiance have about McCullum.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! Please comment below what you think and leave a kudos. Enjoy!

“McCullum.” Jonathan began, eyeballing the hunter from across the table with interest as he watched the Guard of Priwen clutch the tankard of guinness in his grasp and take a long draught of it. One brow raised curiously at the vampire, silently bidding him to proceed. “I have a proposition.”

The evening was nippy outside and the ground level of the Turquoise Turtle was as lively as ever. A centerpiece of celebration as if London had been revived from the tragedies of the past year and a half. The patrons were cheerful, coin flowed as quickly as the alcohol passed from glass to gluttonous lips, drinking down the golden liquid to a level of disturbing inebriation. Reid was certain most of these poor saps won’t even remember how they stumbled home by the end of the night and many would be nursing severe hangovers in the morning. The Guard of Priwen had joined in on the unofficial celebration, a few of McCullum’s officers were milling about with enthusiasm as they challenged one another to games of darts and a round of cards or two. The Leader of Priwen was content to sit back in a side booth with him and nurse the first of many glasses to come.

“What’re you proposing?” McCullum drawled thickly in that Irish accent that made Reid’s stomach tighten pleasantly. His lips quirked up in the smallest smile as he inspected the other man thoughtfully. It had been a long road to get here, being able to sit in each other’s presence with such ease and the absence of guns being drawn and swords pressed to throats, to the point that even the other officers were comfortable enough to leave Reid alone with their Leader. Though to be fair, they weren’t entirely on their own. It would be suicide were he to try to eat the Leader of Priwen in such a crowded place and Jonathan had no desire to do so. The world would become rather dull without Geoffrey to liven it up all the time.

He watched as McCullum’s adam’s apple bobbed, a slow dip and rise as he swallowed another mouthful of his drink. The rosie coloring blossoming across his cheeks could have been from the heat of the room or the drink itself. Cool eyes drank Jonathan in, making him shift awkwardly in the booth as he folded his hands in front of himself on the table.

“Well, I was wondering if I could try an experiment with you?” He started, feeling heat creeping up on his own face as he worked the thoughts into words.

“This isn’t going to be like that time you asked me to use jumper cables on you, is it?” McCullum’s lips curled into a pleased smile at that reminder. It had been a curious experiment and Jonathan was left whining about the repercussions for days after. It had something to do with his heart, from what McCullum recalled. Jonathan never informed him on rather the experiment was a success or not, though by the look the doctor gave him whenever he brought it up, that silent pout he mustered, it wasn’t something he liked to discuss. Which only pleased him further.

McCullum chuckled when that same pout returned, Jonathan turning his head in denial as he surged forth with the topic. “No, not like that.” He assured. A sigh slipped past his lips as he turned back to McCullum, watching the Irishman put away the last few swallows of his glass with a peculiar fascination. When most drank, Reid felt an odd sense of empathy, noticing the haunted looks in their eyes. When McCullum drank though, there was merriment and amusement dancing in those eyes. A sort of mischief that made Reid shiver with delight. He pressed his lips into a thin line of contemplation as he tapped his fingers on the polished wood surface.

“Speak up Reid. We don’t have all night.” McCullum paused with his glass, thought about it, then shrugged. “Well, we do but I doubt you’ll enjoy the later hours of the evening.”

“I was wondering if you would allow me to drink from you after you’ve intoxicated yourself a bit more.” He finally pushed the words out and gestured to Geoffrey and his empty glass. “I want to know if it is possible to get inebriated off of your blood alcohol level.” He gave a sheepish smile to the hunter as Geoffrey regarded him with a seriousness that was uniquely him. Intimidating and powerful, never faltering as it guarded his thoughts on the topic. Geoffrey’s lips curled into a smile that flashed teeth, an amused chuckle rumbled out causing Reid to cock a brow in confusion.

“I get it now.” He hummed. McCullum recalled the look Jonathan had given him not even a week earlier when he discovered Geoffrey put a healthy dose of whiskey in his coffee every night. The doctor had a thoughtful expression, a brow raised in confusion as he inspected the hunter at his desk, sipping at the earthy aroma that wafted through the small enclosed space. The bitter hints of the alcohol was concealed beneath the small drops of milk that colored it a caramel hue. The warmth that pooled throughout his body after a long cold night of hunting leeches in the sewers, was a nice topper for the end of a good day. Jonathan had questioned him at the time, about his alcohol tolerance and consumption, each inquiry more amused than the last. Geoffrey had thought his words teasing at the time, a quip at his roots but now it made sense. “Sure this isn’t your excuse to get me out of my trousers doctor?”

Reid’s cheeks warmed with startled shock as he shook his head. “No-not at all! I mean-er if you would want to. I’m not opposed.” He stumbled over his words with the boyish charm that never left his innocent features. How a man could go through war and come out so pure still boggled the mind. Even more so when that man was now a blood sucking leech.

McCullum called the waitress over to bring him two more beers and a bottle of whiskey with a glass for pouring. “Well then, I believe this is going to be one of your more enjoyable experiments. At least for me.” When the drinks were brought over, Jonathan looked wholeheartedly concerned. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary Geoffrey. You’re going to make yourself ill drinking all this on your own.” Jonathan chastised but McCullum rolled his eyes.

“Shut it Reid. I can handle my alcohol. It's in me blood.” He poured a glass of whiskey and downed it in one go, snorting in amusement as he added. “Literally.” 

“Quite.” Jonathan let the amusement show as he watched McCullum put away both beers and a third of the bottle of whiskey between idle conversation and two games of cards. He joined a dart throwing contest with one of his officers and beat the two contenders with surprising ease though their aim was already destroyed by the sheer amount of drinks they had knocked back in the few short hours. McCullum was still steady on his feet, his cheeks a violent red hue from the alcohol and eyes bright with drunken mischief, scuffling around with one of the men as they attempted to slip him into a headlock. It became a game of shoving like school boys before one fell into a chair with a bark of hearty laughter. It was pleasant to watch but the experiment would be a loss if Jonathan couldn’t wrangle the hunter away for a taste.

“Geoffrey, come on.” Jonathan tugged on his arm towards the back door leading out to the docks. The hunter relented with a deep throaty chuckle, letting himself be lured away as one of his officers whistled a cat call. 

He turned and flipped them off, cursing loudly at them in a way that Jonathan couldn’t make sense of. He didn’t know if it was another rare opportunity to hear Geoffrey’s native tongue or the man was just that hammered beneath the calm facade. He made a note to ask him about it later on when he was more sober.

Once they were outside, it took little effort to get the hunter backed against the wall just around the corner out of the view of drunken passersby. The water at their backs as it lapped at the shoreline, the soft light of the moon peering through the thick cloud coverage that inevitably kept London in a state of constant gloom. The stench of the docks had lessened in the cold night air, somehow more tolerable than usual. The smell of whiskey was strong from Geoffrey as the hunter held his breath, inspecting the doctor with half-lidded eyes. The small hitch in his breath was pronounced by Jonathan’s sense of hearing accompanied by the increased pace of his heart as it picked up in rhythm. It was all so intoxicating.

“Leech.” Geoffrey teased, reaching a hand up to his neck where he adjusted his scarf, pulling the fabric loose enough to expose the tender sunkissed skin. It was warm and radiated with the scent of the hunter. The steady musk lingering with whispers of smoke from a fire. The gentle nip of stale tobacco from the company he kept. Jonathan pressed his forehead against Geoffrey’s shoulder, breathing him in with great breaths. His eyes bright in the pale slivers of moonlight as he kissed the dip of his throat with a fond gentleness. A silent apology as he sunk his teeth into the delicate skin. Geoffrey hissed through clenched teeth, a shallow gasp as he shivered, fingers curling around Jonathan’s shoulders to hold him steady. He was prepared to intervene should it come to that but Geoffrey was not unaccustomed to this. Jonathan has fed in the past, far more desperate and wild in manner and even then he had shown the utmost restraint.

Jonathan felt the warm pulse beneath his tongue as he laved over the puncture wounds. The sweet song of Geoffrey’s heart had betrayed him in its utterance. Geoffrey had always tasted sweet, an unholy sort of temptation that wrenched at his chest and spilled guilt into his conscience that mingled shamelessly with need. But tonight, that sweet symphony of flavor was gone. It was replaced by the bitter burn of alcohol and the brilliant blossom of something more beneath the surface. Both tantalizing and disgusting, the after burn that pooled at the back of his throat made him cough to try and clear it out. It failed, in every attempt causing him to relent. He cleaned the wound with a few small licks, inspected the puncture with concern but the bite was considerably shallow compared to past injuries. He was getting better at judging with practice, leaving smaller less grizzly wounds that could easily be patched up compared to the larger more ravenous marks others left on their prey. It was built on experience and self control.

Jonathan withdrew the extra medical supplies he kept on his person in case of such emergencies and quickly set to work patching Geoffrey back up. The hunter observed him with a thoughtful look, his hands gently resting on Reid’s shoulders still as the vampire adjusted his scarf and returned it to its protective stance. 

“How’s it taste?” McCullum inquired after a moment of silence.

“Oddly unpleasant.” Jonathan answered, fingers fixing the lapels of Geoffrey’s coat and ensuring no blood had stained the fabric. He had been careful, but it was best to make sure before returning to the rest of Priwen. “But it's not the worst thing I’ve drank. Far better than the rats anyway.”

McCullum snorted at that, shaking his head as he pulled away to head back inside. “Come on. I’ve got a bottle of whiskey with my name on it.” He informed.

“Geoffrey, you really should take care…” His words trailed off after a minute, an odd sensation of distraction as his thoughts cluttered to the forefront. He felt the rush of warmth to his cheeks and the slow burn in the pit of his stomach as if he’d drank a scalding pot of tea straight from the kettle. He raised a brow, ignoring the change in temperature as they shifted from the cold refreshing night air into the oppressive heat of the Turtle with its stale scents and the odor of dockhands and other patrons all crammed together at tables, sharing drinks and talking excitedly. Sabrina was busy running drinks back and forth between the bar, Tom Watts was playing ear to the sorry men that cluttered the stools, lamenting about the poor hands they’d been dealt.

He’d been ushered to the table where the guards had taken up most of the seats. Two spare chairs had been dragged over as Geoffrey moved their glasses from the booth over to the table, already pouring the remainder of the whiskey out for his men as they saluted their drinks and downed them with practiced ease. The lively chatter brought a warm smile to Geoffrey’s face, shattering the cold calculated facade he often wore when out on patrol or sitting busy in his office with his signature scowl.

The Leader of Priwen reached out and grabbed Jonathan by the elbow, steering the doctor down into the seat beside him as he poured a second round. Sabrina brought over another round of beers while one of the officers doled out the cards for another game. Jonathan didn’t partake in this one, more interested in watching the others play. He eyed McCullum’s hand over his shoulder, a raised brow admiring the lucky hand he was dealt. The man’s luck never ceased to amaze him, a trait that McCullum would jokingly claim was in his blood. Jonathan would roll his eyes at the little joke and ignore the shit eating grin the hunter would aim his way.

The longer he spent watching the game play out, the more distracted he became as his thoughts ran rampant without the carefully guarded filter created by years of etiquette and self-discipline. His head rested against McCullum’s shoulder somewhere around the second or third game and he lost control of his tongue as he added little jabs into the passing banter and rumbled commentary into Geoffrey’s ear that would make the Irishman blush fiercely or nearly choke on his beer. He pushed Reid’s head away at one point, pushing two fingers against his jaw to get him away from his ear, the warm breath trickling across his neck was making it hard to focus on his hand and the boys were staring at them with an eagerness just waiting to be unleashed.

Reid pouted, a huff of breath as he chuckled at McCullum’s muttered curse. “What’s wrong McHotty?” He tilted his head with a cheeky smile, ignoring the drop jawed looks the Priwen were giving him including McCullum’s own warning look. He snorted and barked out a deep laugh that vibrated from his chest. His fangs in full display as he grinned. A sight that the men were still getting used to but tonight the tension melted into a raucous of thickly accented jibing and McCullum’s growing displeasure as his subordinates jeered at him with the slipped up nickname.

“Reid.” McCullum warned him sharply after shooting a stern look at his second in command. The looks did little to dissuade the group, only adding to the mood as Geoffrey’s carefully crafted self-image was shattered by the continued commentary by the inebriated vampire doctor hanging on his shoulder. He folded his hand and stood up suddenly, one hand raised to steady Reid and keep him from falling out of his seat. “You’re sloshed.” Geoffrey commented, the low drawl was slurred only minutely compared to the others but that could have been weariness trickling into his syllables as he gave a tired huff towards the doctor. “Up ya go ya little fecker.”

“You leavin already sir?” One of the guards called, brows raised into his hairline as their Leader muscled the doctor to his feet and with a herculean effort, steadied the swaying man.

“Someone’s gotta make sure the doc gets home safely. You boys continue without me but don’t stay out too late.” He reminded sharply earning a nod of understanding from the group.

“Night Doc! McHotty!” One of the guards blurted over the rim of his beer. McCullum turned sharply to glare the man down with a cold look but the eruption of laughter that followed drowned out the danger in it and replaced it with a weary frown.

“You’re more trouble than yer worth.” McCullum hissed through his teeth once he maneuvered Reid through the crowded pub and onto the streets, welcoming the cool night air as it swept away the stale fog the booze had built up. Geoffrey sobered a little, though he couldn’t say the same for Reid. The doctor swayed and bellowed with laughter, leaning against McCullum as he murmured sweet teasing nothings into his ear, nipping at the shell with gentle temptations. Geoffrey rolled his eyes and craned his head away, shaking the man to steady himself as he prepared to wrestle the doctor all the way back to Whitechapel. 

* * *

Jonathan awoke with a pounding headache and a white hot pain that lanced behind his eyes. He blinked slowly against the sharp pain allowing his eyes to get accustomed to the dim office lighting. The familiar scents of leather and gunpowder told him it was Geoffrey’s personal quarters, easing the tension of uncertainty as he sank back into the mattress with a sigh. He laid there, willing his existence to end if the throbbing ache didn’t recede. The ferocity of his hangover was worse than anything he’d encountered in his early years of mortality. He didn’t take pleasure in babysitting the booths of pubs in his early years but the small gatherings with colleagues at the end of a long day would sometimes lead to the harder fought mornings of regret. Often accompanied by strong tea and painkillers. He didn’t have the luxury of either, a poorly thought out plan on his end, he would admit.

With a groan, he forced himself upright, letting the room swoon around him, a topsy turvy engagement that made his stomach do somersaults with increasing remorse. He peeked at the office, scouting the nearest trash bin as a contingency plan as he considered just how badly he messed up in his calculations. His attention was brought towards the other side of the room by a hearty laugh. “Morning princess.” The teasing tone was sharp and relentless, piercing his ears with painful audacity.

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his crooked nose and grumbled under his breath. “You’re too loud for this early in the evening.” He lamented. His voice a hoarse rasp that was honestly god awful and he was thankful to be waking up in Priwen headquarters instead of Pembroke, as odd as that was. He wouldn’t be able to muster through the pomp and circumstance of routine with the skull splitting pain every sound seemed to cause him. He grumbled expletives to himself in bitter french as he hung his legs over the edge of the bed and contemplated his chances of standing without losing his stomach or his balance.

Geoffrey snorted derisively. “Figures. Wouldn’t put it past an Englishman to be a light weight.” The Leader of Priwen was up and properly dressed for the day, a stack of reports gathered up in his hands as he rifled through his desk in search of a pen. His attention shifted back towards Jonathan as the doctor frowned.

“What happened last night?” He tried to recall the events after drinking from Geoffrey but everything was wrapped up in a hazy fog of scents and sensations. Mumbled words that he could barely grasp echoing in his ears and the feel of warm skin against his cheek. He pulled at the glimpses of cards but that could have been before their little experiment knowing how scattered his head was at the moment.

“You don’t remember?” McCullum asked, moving around his desk to rest his hip against the side. He folded his hands over his chest and offered a breathy laugh of amusement. Jonathan rolled his eyes but the act alone made his head throb in protest. He groaned softly. 

“How are you not hungover?” Jonathan whined, placing his hands on his thighs to support himself as he contemplated rising. He took the risk and instead plopped back down onto the mattress, deciding he very much rather stay put for his own sanity.

“I’m Irish.” McCullum chuckled, the teasing tone heavily laced through his words. His lips pulled into a smirk as he tossed his head pointedly. “Last night was pretty relaxed as far as Priwen is concerned.”

Jonathan massaged at his temples with a careful hand, eyes slipping shut as he grumbled his discontent. “I didn’t think it was possible to be hungover as a vampire.”

“Is it worse or better than as a human?” It was a genuine question of curiosity.

“I’d dare say worse since I can’t take anything to fix it.” He admitted in relative misery.

“Poor you.” Geoffrey chuckled. 

“Don’t sound so sympathetic.” Jonathan dripped with sarcasm.

Geoffrey shook his head, straightening up as he returned to his seat behind his desk. “Any other circumstance I might have worried about ya, but you made a bloody fool of yourself last night.”

Jonathan’s mouth went dry, his head snapping up suddenly in disbelief. His jaw slackened as he studied the hunter, looking for some sign that this was a taunt directed at him in his moment of weakness. “What did I do?”

Geoffrey snorted derisively. “Does the moniker  _ McHotty _ sound familiar?” He asked, lips twisted into a scowl as he rifled through the reports on his desk. “I’m tempted to shoot you just for that. My boys got ahold of it like a dog with a bone and refuse to give it up now the bastards.”

Jonathan’s anguish couldn’t have been more complete in that moment. He knew there was more that McCullum wasn’t divulging but he honestly would rather not know the rest. If the drunken nickname was anything to go by and his past transgressions in his youth were a fair point to head, he made an absolute arse of himself and that sort of blow to his pride, he wasn’t sure he could heal from. Vampiric gifts or not, some wounds were fatal in a sense beyond physical. He slumped back into the bed, burying his face into McCullum’s pillow as he groaned.

“If you're going to die, try to be more quiet. Some of us actually have to live with our bad life choices and yours have made my workload harder.” Geoffrey sniped but there wasn’t much heat behind it. Jonathan relented to a silent submission, wondering if Geoffrey would keep his promise and end his misery with a premature execution. He was certain this would fall under his threats towards  _ misbehaving  _ quite well and the hunter was an eager one when it came to leeches.


End file.
